"I know, I know, Miriam—I do understand——"
"Oh, but you can't understand," she persisted; "you haven't a husband and you don't know ..."
"Yes, yes, Miriam, I know," were the only words that rose to the girl's lips to comfort her, for at that moment the faint sound of the insistent door-bell broke in upon them.
Mrs. Challoner's slight frame shook with sudden agitation as she exclaimed:—
"That door-bell will drive me crazy!" And almost instantly recovering her composure she gasped:—
"If it should be Laurie!"
The girl glanced at the smouldering fire in the grate, where to her excited fancy in all their hideousness rose before her the headlines she had read in the evening papers: "Challoner Caught In Chicago!"
"It isn't Laurie," Miriam went on; "no, of course not; but whoever it is, Shirley, you must see them for me—unless it should be—" she faltered. "Then come back, but don't leave me to-night—you'll stay, won't you?"
"Yes," the girl assured her. "But you must promise me that you'll rest for a little while—there—on that sofa. Then we'll have a bite together, and——"
Without a word Miriam Challoner went over to the sofa, and soon gave way to the first sleep she had had in many days.